


(what we need is a ball of yarn and a lot of words)

by Saathi1013



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Complicated Relationships, F/M, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Multi, POV Character of Color, POV Female Character, POV Third Person Limited, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:42:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saathi1013/pseuds/Saathi1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mako Mori is sleeping with Raleigh Beckett, whom she loves.  This doesn't necessarily mean that they're <i>in</i> love.</p><p>It takes a while to figure out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(what we need is a ball of yarn and a lot of words)

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't know about Vanessa Gottlieb when I wrote this, and if I had, she would def. be in it. Sorry, fellow Vanessa-lovers. D8
> 
> No beta nor active (non-Google) language consultants for the few non-English words present. Mistakes, if pointed out, will be corrected with alacrity (and no small amount of self-recrimination).

_They save the world, and everyone lives happily ever after._

Wait, no.

_...and everyone who survives lives without fear of the Kaiju._

No, that's not right either. There's a brain trust dedicated to monitoring the world and near-earth space for more rifts; children still tell each other stories of the earth shaking, foundations crumbling, distant roars coming closer. Mako still wakes in the night, panting and gasping, heart in her throat and her boots half-laced before she _remembers_.

Remembering doesn't help.

She sits on the edge of her bunk, feeling empty, feeling like a part of herself has been torn away, and other memories come to her.

_(not hers)_

_(hers now)_

_(remembering another remembering)_

_(emptymissinglost)_

She zips on her jacket and prowls the halls of the Shatterdome.

Walks past the control room, and the combat room, both empty this late at night. Keeps going. Doesn't look at the door to Stacker's room. Keeps going. Past the mess hall and then doubling back, the gnawing in her middle close enough to hunger.

Raleigh is there in the kitchen, picking over a small, plastic container of cold noodles and beef, wilted vegetables in congealed brown sauce. Leftovers, repackaged as portable lunches for the work crews.

Close enough. She steals his fork and eats, ravenous.

He watches her. She focuses on the food.

"Couldn't sleep," he says, and it could be a question, could be a statement. Both, neither. She nods, swallows.

Noodles slide down her throat, cold and slimy. Her stomach turns, and she hands back the utensil. His fingers brush hers.

"Spar with me," she says, question and statement. Both, neither.

"No," he says, and she meets his gaze. Calm, placid, understanding. He sets the carton aside.

Without thinking, she grabs the front of his shirt in her fist.  Angry, aching, fierce.  She kisses him, a thousand memories echoing behind it.  Every kiss they've ever had, all of them blurring behind her closed eyelids.  She breaks away, gasping.

"You all right?" he says.  She nods, eyes still closed, catching her breath.  "Yeah, okay," he says, and kisses her back.

It's better than sparring.

***

"I love you," he murmurs afterwards, his face pressed against her shoulder, and every muscle in her body grows taut.

"...I," she whispers, mouth going dry.  She loves him, she _does_ \- the realization floods through her like the sun rising, inevitable and warm and bright.  But to say it now, after what they've done, sweat drying on their skin, would feel like _lying_ to him.

"Hey," he says, pulling back.  "It's okay.  I don't... I just wanted you to know.  It's not... an _obligation_."

She avoids his gaze, starts pulling her clothing together.  For all the pleasant lassitude in her body, she can feel the cold hollow behind her ribs creeping back, threading through her mind, reasserting its inevitable presence.  Like taking a painkiller for a toothache, knowing it's only a temporary fix.

He backs away, giving her space, fixing his own clothing.  From the corner of her eye, she watches him cover his skin, red scratches from her fingernails and pale scars she can remember stinging sharp and new.

She hops down off the stainless-steel counter and pulls her trousers on.  

As she leaves, she turns back to see him carefully wiping down the counter with a damp rag, and smiles despite herself.  "Watashi mo," she says, and is gone before he can turn around.

***

Marshall Hansen is an excellent commander, but a terrible diplomat.  Raleigh takes no pleasure from fame, even when it can be used to an advantage.  Mako finds herself the face of the PPDC, remembering well the cost of losing vigilance.  It pains her, knowing that she is arguing that the great sacrifices of the past were somehow not enough, and yet not wanting those losses to be in vain.

Her father would have understood, would have stood in her place doing the same.  She carries on his work, lobbying for the PPDC to retain a sentinel presence in Hong Kong.  Just in case.

It is a battle she never trained for, but she and her allies succeed after much resistance. Public goodwill towards their saviors is at an all-time high, even as the bureaucrats debate their own definitions of 'practicality.'

In the end, the PPDC must justify the expense.

***

Raleigh leaves his door unlocked at night.

Sometimes Mako ignores this, curls up in her own bed, exhaustion suffusing her limbs but her mind racing with a thousand thousand things.  When she finally sleeps, it's fitful and sparse, leaving her sluggish and sore from tossing and turning.

Sometimes she doesn't, slips into his room in the small hours of the morning, curls up inside the waiting cradle of his arms.  Sleep finds her swiftly there, their breathing synchronizing into a steady, comforting rhythm.

Sometimes he wakes, and they do more than sleep.  Feeling him move inside her is a pale echo of the Drift, but it eases the ache, creates an empathetic feedback in their bodies, both of them striving together towards the same goal.  There is also an... itch, almost, at the back of her mind, the bond between them sparking at physical contact, but without the tech to support it, it never blossoms into a full Drift.

Mako wonders if she's weak for needing this, but she can tell that Raleigh needs this, too.  It's there in the tension of his shoulders, on those mornings where they each wake alone.  The soft sigh he gives in his sleep when she shares his bed.  The desperation and the care in his hands when he touches her skin.

He leaves his door unlocked for himself as much as for her, but he doesn't intrude on her space.

Sometimes she wishes he would, but he never does.

***

Mako watches the Mark VI being built, in a rare lull between meetings and conference calls and press interviews.  Sparks scatter across her hull from one of the massive industrial welding arms, tiny meteors of brilliance that fade before reaching the ground far, far below.

"She's going to be beautiful," a familiar voice says behind her, and she turns to see Doctor Geiszler.  "Do we know what we're going to name her?"

"I think... Eureka Danger," she replies.  "It's still being discussed."  Endless discussions over the smallest details, even _names_.  (Another nomenclature debate: Jaeger or Wächter?)  But if she's going to pilot one, she wants it to carry something of the past with it.  It seems fitting.

"Nice," he says, nodding.  He seems... calmer inside his skin, somehow.  She wonders if it's the result of the Drift with Doctor Gottleib, something left behind.  The intensity of his eyes is the same, though, as he looks at her, at the mech, then somewhere in the middle distance, thinking hard.  

"Are... Are you hungry?" he asks.  She blinks, and his eyes skitter sidelong to look at her, uncertain.  When she doesn't answer immediately, he keeps talking, "...because I just realized I'm hungry.  I keep missing meals, tissue degradation is a harsh mistress and Hermann keeps scolding me to take better care of myself but it's difficult to keep track of time without windows, and... well, he's in a meeting with the recovery team, explaining his debris calculations and the effects of tidal forces, and maybe if you were hungry, too, we could eat together? If you want?"  His voice rises in pitch and the words blur together at the end, but she understands.

Mako smiles.  "I worked through lunch, too," she says.

"Oh," he says, then frowns.  "Is that a yes?"

She laughs.  "Yes.  That was a yes."

***

She hasn't been keeping up with all of the reports that the scientists have been generating.  They've had it easier of late, a dozen companies willing to throw money at them in exchange for whatever information they can get. Biotech, weapons, transportation... all of it is about to be revolutionized by even the small scraps the PPDC is willing to declassify.

Doctors Gottleib and Geiszler have found themselves as heads of a sprawling department that crowds an entire floor of the Shatterdome, a dozen other scientists vying for their attention.  Newton - he insists she call him Newton - giggles as he tells her this.  "After all this time, it's _weird_.  Isn't it weird?  Suddenly people _listening_ to me?  I don't know how to process that."

She knows how he feels, but it's different for her.  Every time she speaks, every time people look to her as an authority, she can only remember the man who should be speaking instead.

"Neither do I," she admits.  Her voice must betray her, because he looks at her over the remnants of their meals, really _looks_.

"I'm sorry," he says.  "...I'm not good at _quiet_."

"That's okay," she says.  And it _is_ ; hearing him talk, breathing life into the dry scientific abstracts she can only skim between appointments, is a pleasant distraction from the cacophony in her mind.  "I like listening to you."

He ducks his head and blushes, color creeping up his neck to tint his ears as if his tattoos are leaching out pigment beneath his skin.  She can see them now, coyly peeking from under his shirt cuffs.

"Have you gotten Raiju or Scunner or Slattern yet?" she asks.  She didn't understand why he'd want the monsters etched into his flesh before, but now that they're gone, she can appreciate wanting a reminder.

He looks up.  "What?  Oh, tattoos?  Well... I've got the lineart done, but it's a big piece, all three of 'em.  It's taking forever, and I don't have as much free time as I used to.  I got Otachi and Leatherback done, though.  And the baby."

Mako suddenly wants to see them, know where they are, look at the unfinished piece, wherever it is - if it's as large as he says, it must be on his back somewhere.  Heat floods her cheeks as she realizes she's imagining his bare skin, flexing under the bright colors and stark lines.  

 _Oh,_ she thinks.

She looks away and spots the time.  "I... I must go," she says, collecting her tray.  "I have a meeting soon."

There's something anxious in the twist of Newton's eyebrows as he looks up at her.  "Oh, right, yeah.  Good luck with that."

Mako nods.  "And you, with your work."

"Yeah, thanks," he says, visibly collecting himself.  "Hey, do you want to do this again?  Sometime?  I mean, I know we're both busy, but maybe..."

She bites her lip.  "Maybe," she says, and gives him a small smile to soothe the spark of disappointment she sees in his eyes.

***

Mako stays in her own bed that night, and for once it's her own memories keeping her awake.

Raleigh's fingers inside her, his tongue flickering like flame, her hands buried in his hair.  Needing him like an extension of her soul, loving him but not wanting anything more than this, the electricity arcing between them, the calm after where their bodies fit together as neatly as their minds had.

The stories she'd heard, second- and third-hand, of Newton (and later, Doctor Gottleib) risking everything to Drift with a Kaiju.  How she'd spotted Newton in the crowd after Raleigh and she had been retrieved from the ocean. He'd been wearing an oversized jumpsuit and his hair was plastered in place from the anti-Blue dousing he'd received after exposure to so many Kaiju corpses.

She hadn't spared a thought then to how much he'd really done, the reality of staring down Otachi and its offspring without a Jaeger or any training beyond 'find the nearest shelter.'  The staggering  _energy_ of him, undimmed even after looking death in the face.

It's all a jumble.  She doesn't know what to do.

She _aches_.

***

The next day, she spots Raleigh in the hall, talking with with one of the new technicians from the Kenyan thinktank.  Raleigh is laughing at whatever the woman is saying, leaning into the hand she has on his arm.

And Mako's first instinct is to _smile_ \- at the sight of her partner's face so open in delight, at the knowledge that he's come so far from their first meeting, at the easy, carefree moment he’s able to experience after everything... Shock floods through Mako next, because she should be _upset_ , shouldn't she?  

But no, all she feels is warmth, affection, and a bit of curiosity.  She wants to go over to get introduced.  Instead, she ducks her head and blends into the crowd, heading to her first committee teleconference of the day.

That night, she slips into Raleigh's room, curling into the warm curve of his body.  "Hey," he mumbles sleepily.

"Hey," she says.  She catches his hand in hers when it starts creeping under the hem of her shirt.  "I saw you talking to a woman earlier," she says, and feels his body tense up.  "It's okay, I was just curious..."

"Mako," Raleigh says, sounding very awake.  He sits up, turns the light on.  "What-?  I don't understand."

She squints against the sudden glare, looking up at his silhouette.  "I had a lunch date with Doctor Geiszler yesterday," she says, keeping her voice light.  "Does that upset you?"

She can't read his expression, but he's silent for a long moment.  "...no," he answers finally, sounding puzzled.

"And I'm not upset about that woman, either."  She lets a little of her own confusion bleed through.  "What does that mean?"

He scrubs a hand down his face.  "I don't know, Mako, what _does_ that mean?"

"I was hoping you could tell me," she says.  "You told me you loved me... that first time."  He hasn't said it since, but she can feel it every time he touches her, even the casual, friendly gestures they share in public.

"Yeah," he murmurs.  "I _do_."

"And I love you, too.  I just don't know... what _kind_ of love this is."  She puts the back of her wrist over her eyes, tired of squinting.  "Why don't we spend more time together? Why are we secretive about sharing a bed?"

"I'm not _ashamed_ of this," he starts, "I wanted to respect –”

"But you never asked for more," she said.  "Do you... _want_ more?"

"Do you?" he counters.

Mako sighs.  "I don't need any more than this," she says after a pause.  But even as she says it, she knows it's a lie.

"Bullshit," he says.  "You need the Drift, same as I do."

"...yes," she admits in a whisper.   _And I need my father back,_ she thinks.   _As you need your brother._  The kind of futile, childlike need that never really goes away, if her memories of Raleigh's memories are anything to go by.  "Is that all this is?"

He laughs, and she moves her hand to look at him again.  His shoulders are shaking.  "Mako... everything we've ever experienced, every thought, every memory, everything we _are_... we shared in the Drift.  This isn't a placebo, this is a _side effect_."

All in a rush, she remembers all the reports she'd studied, all the tests and strange questions she’d sat through during Ranger screening.  Things she hadn’t understood then, had dismissed as inconsequential or due to overly-cautious bureaucrats attempting to cover every imagined pitfall, suddenly snap into place.

“Ah,” she says.

He laces his fingers in hers, his left in her right.  “Yeah,” he says.  He bows his head to press a kiss against the back of her hand.  “I don’t need more than you want to give me,” he says.  “But I don’t want to lose you.”

 _You could never lose me,_ she thinks, but he’s already speaking again.

“So if you want me to stay away from Faizah, I will.”

“…do you want me to stay away from Newton?” she asks.

“ _Mako,_ ” he says, sounding weary.

“No,” she answers.  “It’s all right.  So long as she… understands.”

“She’s a Drift tech,” he says, and Mako can hear the smile in his voice, “She probably knows more about this than I do.  It’s not serious, anyway.”

“ _Raleigh,_ ” she says, echoing his earlier tone.

“I’ll talk to her,” he promises.  “And you’ll talk to Newton?”

“Yes,” she says.

He nods once, and turns out the light.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says in the dark, settling in again behind her.

“We will,” she says, willing herself to believe it.

***

Mako reschedules her morning appointment, much to the distress of the undersecretary of the Russian delegate.   _I need my own secretary,_ she thinks.  The simple AI that runs her calendar simply isn’t enough anymore.

She goes to the science wing, which people have begun calling ‘the Warren.’  It’s a maze of new partitions and knocked-out walls, completely transforming the space from the layout she remembers from before.  Strangers cluster around workbenches filled with specimens and lounge beside blocky, strange machines, waiting for results to unspool from networked printers.

“Excuse me,” she says to one of the latter, “I’m looking for Doctor Geiszler?”

The man barely glances up from his magazine.  “Yeah, take a number,” he says, then gratifyingly does a double-take.  “Ranger Mori,” he says, scrambling to his feet and switching to Japanese.  “I apologize for the disrespect.  Please allow me to show you to his office.”

His accent is _awful_.  “English is fine, Doctor…?”

“Hicks, Ma’am.  Trenton Hicks.  I handle all the xenohemotological tests on the specimens,” he explains as he guides her through the Warren to one of the only proper doors she’s seen in all the chaos.  “We, ah, we should knock,” he says.  “Sometimes it takes a couple tries, but…”  And then he pounds on the door with such vehemence that Mako takes a step back, fully expecting the door to fall off its hinges.

After a minute, it cracks open and Netwon sticks his head out, looking annoyed and disheveled and like he hasn’t slept since she last saw him.  “Trent!” he says.  “What have I told you – oh,” he stops when he spots her.  “Mako.  Hey.”

“Thank you, Doctor Hicks,” Mako says with a smile, tipping her head in subtle prompting.

The xenohematologist gives her a truly terrible, over-exaggerated bow.  “It was a pleasure, Ranger Mori,” he says, and hurries off.

Newton sighs.  “You’ll have to excuse Trent, he’s like a puppy.  A puppy who’s written two groundbreaking papers on Kaiju Blue, admittedly, but… come on in.”  He opens the door wider, and she steps through, finding a space neatly bisected in half, two desks pushed together in the center, facing each other.  Doctor Gottleib works at a chalkboard to her left, his side pin-neat as ever, while the other side is clearly Newton’s, a riot of samples and jars on every surface that isn’t covered by paperwork.  On one filing cabinet, she even sees a test tube stand precariously perchedatop of a stack of reports.

“I’m… surprised you two still share an office,” she comments.

“So are we,” Doctor Gottleib says archly, coming over to greet her, one hand on his cane and the other outstretched.  As she shakes his offered hand, he says, “A pleasure to see you, Miss Mori.  I understand that you are lobbying to declassify some of our research, so we can publish more of our findings.  The effort is appreciated.”

“The PPDC was conceived to serve the best interests of the public,” she says.  “Following that mandate, it seems reasonable that the global scientific community benefit from all the exemplary work you have done for us.”

Newton is bouncing on his feet beside them, a wide grin on his face.  “So what brings you here?” he asks.

“It’s, ah,” she starts.  “…a somewhat sensitive matter.  I didn’t mean to interrupt your work, Doctor Gottleib.”

“No, no,” he says, “That’s quite all right.  I have some underlings to go scold, I’m sure.”

“The number jockeys keep coming in with hangovers,” Newton explains as his colleague makes a diplomatic exit.  “My guys have a still in a supply closet that they don’t think we know about, but we overlook it so long as they get their jobs done.”  The door closes behind Doctor Gottleib, and Newton claps his hand together.  “So what’s up?  We haven’t found, like, a Kaiju nest or anything, have we?”

Mako’s eyes go wide.  “That’s a serious possibility?”

“Well,” he says, “Not really.  We haven’t found any egg-laying organs yet, but I don’t trust Chau any farther than I can throw him, so he could be holding back on us.”

Mako suppresses a shudder at the idea of a whole cluster of newly-hatched Kaiju crawling around on the ocean floor, and sternly reminds herself of why she’s there.  “Have… have you experienced any side-effects of the Drift?” she asks.  “Not regarding the Kaiju, but… with Doctor Gottleib?”

“What?  Um.”  He looks uncomfortable for a moment.  “Is there a rumor going around that I should know about?”

She exhales.  “No,” she says.  “I know you only Drifted with him once, but…”  She looks up at him, and realizes that Newton is looking everywhere but at her.  “Have you Drifted with him again?” she asks.

“We get so much _work_ done,” he exhales in a rush.  “It’s incredible, our efficiency – and our insights, with shared brainpower, expertise…”

Mako holds up one hand.  “Unsanctioned Drifts,” she says slowly, “unsupervised, are _extremely_ dangerous.”

“We know,” he says, “but we’ve improved on the –”  He visibly restrains himself.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry, we should have told Marshall Hansen, but he’s already got his hands full with the reconstruction, and we’re trying to _help_.”  He’s practically vibrating out of his skin with anxiety, and she softens a little in sympathy.

She reaches out and curls her fingers around one of his wrists.  “I understand,” she says, “But you’ll have to tell the Marshall, set up parameters for your Drifts to minimize the risks.”

“Yeah,” he says, “Okay.”  He looks down at her hand on his arm.  “Wait, so what did you mean, ‘side effects’?”  When he looks back up at her, his eyes are sharp and curious.

Mako takes a deep breath.  “Raleigh and I have been sleeping together.”  She fully expects him to pull away from her, but he just lets out a small noise, a huff of air through his nose.

“Oh,” he says.  “Is… is that.  Um.  Did you want to see me to tell me you can’t see me anymore?”

“I wanted to know if that… will cause difficulties,” she says.

He barks a short laugh and pulls his hand away, to comb his hands through his hair, leaving it in even more disarray than before, gray tufts sticking out at odd angles.  “I’d be a hell of a hypocrite if I said yes,” he says, with some difficulty.

She understands what he means, and covers her mouth with her hand, smothering a laugh.  Newton looks affronted.

“I’m sorry,” she says.  “I thought you two _hated_ each other.”

“Oh we totally do,” he says.  “Also… the opposite of that.  It’s confusing and weird, but it works for us.”

“So he won’t mind if we – you and I, I mean…”

“He just left to give us some privacy,” Newton points out.  “And he’s been pretty clear about not wanting to ‘constantly bear the burden of my attentions’.” His voice rises in a mocking echo of his partner’s inflections, then drops again.  “Which is fine, I feel the same way.  Like I said, confusing and weird, but…”

“It works for you,” she finishes, then tips her head to the side.  “Are your affections _really_ a burden, Newton?”

“Probably, yeah,” he says, then slants her a small, hopeful smile.  “Wanna find out?”

Mako laughs again, and is gratified to see his grin widen.  “I’m willing to try if you are,” she says.  “Dinner?”

He nods.  “Yeah, yeah, that would be great.  Eight o’clock?”

“It’s a date,” she says, and gives him another smile as she leaves.

***

She drops by the combat center, watches Raleigh training the new recruits.  She can tell when he spots her, a slight frisson of awareness across her skin, but he doesn’t falter in his motions, bringing the rookie to the mat two moves later.  He’s holding back; she makes a moue of disapproval.

“I know that face,” he calls, and the cluster of trainees turns to look at her.  “Wanna show ‘em how it’s done?”

Mako’s eyebrows lift.  “Someone should.”

One of the rookies tries to hide their laugh with a cough.

She takes off her boots, memory-echoes crowding her mind.  She pushes them aside, finds quiet in her center as she takes her place, meeting his eyes.  No sticks this time, just hands and feet.

It’s _perfect_.  She barely notices when she falls, loses count of how many times she knocks him down.  The just get back up, dancing with and around and beside each other, as easy as breathing.

A particularly piercing whistle from the onlookers cuts through the bubble they’ve made.  They seem to have attracted a crowd, and making his way to the front is Marshall Hansen.

“What’s the count?” Raleigh asks, winded.

Voices shout numbers, but Hansen holds up a hand, smiling.  The chorus dies down.  “Even,” he says, stepping onto the mat.  “As it oughtta be.”  He turns around and faces the crowd.  “This is what Drift compatibility looks like.  Trainees, this is what you should be working towards.  The rest of you? Should just be _working_.”  A ripple of chuckles answers him, and the crowd starts to thin out.

He turns back to Mako and Raleigh.  “How do the recruits look?” he asks.

Mako’s read the reports, cc’d to her inbox with the science reports and the assembly updates.  But she doesn’t know them as _people_ , not yet, so she is quiet while Raleigh answers.  Listens closely to what he’s left out of the official reviews, gut reactions he can’t quantify but hold a glimmer of truth nonetheless.

She realizes that among the three of them – commander, ambassador, teacher – they hold the beating heart of every Jaeger in their hands.  It warms her, clear to her toes.

***

Mako ends stuck on an endless phone conference that night, and looks up at a gentle tapping on her door to find Newton there with a hesitant smile and a food delivery bag.  She immediately hits the mute button.

“I hope this is okay…” he whispers.

“No, no, it’s fine,” she says, clearing a space on her desk.  “But you shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.”

“Eh, I was getting sick of cafeteria food,” he says.  “Should I go, or…?”

“I don’t know how long this will take,” she admits.  “I don’t want to waste your time.”

He smiles, bright and crooked.  “I literally have nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Mako can feel her face turning pink.  “Well, you are welcome to stay as long as you like,” she says.  “But I won’t be upset if you go.”

“Okay,” he says, and starts unpacking the food.

They eat greasy pizza from paper plates, and Mako almost chokes once when she has to swallow her food quickly enough to answer a question she’s asked.  Newton makes exaggerated facial expressions in reaction to one of the other speakers’ pompous monologuing, and she stifles a giggle.

Mako barely remembers the rest of the meeting, trusting her transcription app to record all the details while she watches Newton pull crumpled paper out of the recycling bin.  He flattens them and tears them and re-creases them until he’s built a handful of simplified origami Kaiju, and one Jaeger that she thinks might be Gipsy Danger.  He makes them fight through the skyscrapers of her desk accessories and around the remnants of their food, until all the Kaiju are defeated and Gipsy does a triumphant little dance atop a paperweight.

When the call ends, he straightens in his seat and starts clearing up the trash, about to sweep the paper figures away.  She stops him and rescues them, lining them up on the cabinet behind her desk.

“You like ‘em?” he asks, sounding surprised.

“I like _you_ ,” Mako says, and pulls him close with one hand on his tie to kiss him, chaste and sweet.  “Thank you for dinner.”

“You are... very very welcome,” he says, looking flustered and pleased.

She lets Newton walk her to the door of her quarters, where she kisses him again.  “Try again tomorrow?” she asks.

“Absolutely,” he replies.

***

This is not what she expected of her life; a Jaeger pilot, certainly.  But this is more than that; she’s one of a handful of internationally-recognized heroes who’d closed the Rift, with all the scrutiny and awe that goes with it.

And beyond that, a new rhythm to her life, a new shape to her soul.  Part of Mako will always live within Raleigh, just as Yancy does, just as Raleigh and Stacker live within her, just as Chuck lives in his father, just as Hermann and Newton live within each other.  Just as all those lost live within the memories of the survivors, shrapnel embedded in still-beating hearts.

She carries the memories, an ache within her chest that will never heal.  But the ache is not all that she is.

There are also those parts of herself that she _shares_ , not through circumstance (no matter how fortuitous), but by _choice_.  With Hermann, who she discovers makes the best tea in the Shatterdome.  With Faizah, who as it turns out, has a wicked sense of humor and keeps Raleigh grounded in ways that Mako cannot.  Even with the public, when she makes an appearance at an event or on screen, whose appreciation never fails to humble her.  

And with Newton, whose clever mind always manages to surprise her, a contrast to Raleigh’s familiarity and steady comfort.

No, this is not what she expected of her life.  It is so much richer than that.

***

Mako Mori has fifty pounds of armor on and feels so light she could float away.

_Neural handshake initiated._

She lets it wash over her, through her, until she and Raleigh are synchronized as one within Eureka Danger.

“Are you ready?” Raleigh asks, with a sidelong smile.  She can feel it through the Drift, challenge and exultation and pulse-thrumming anticipation.

She laughs and they steer the Wächter into the city to transform rubble and crumbling chasms into something whole and new.

 

 

\-- END --

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story could very easily have been 10x times longer, given the complexity of everything in play, but I decided to finish it where I did, because I like the promise of new beginnings.


End file.
